Sarah nodded in approval. “You’ve changed, for the better.”
Yes, I had changed. I was no longer the naive, easily deceived girl. I had become an independent, strong woman who knew what she wanted.
Two years later, one afternoon, a familiar figure walked into my coffee shop. It was Mark. He looked haggard, with streaks of gray in his hair.
“Hannah,” he said my name, his voice hoarse.
I looked at him calmly. “What are you doing here?”
“I… I wanted to apologize,” he said. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
I didn’t say anything, just looked at him.
“I know I did a lot of terrible things. I hurt you,” he continued. “I regret it so much now, but I know it’s too late. I just wanted to tell you. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. I heard you,” I said. “Is there anything else?”
Mark was taken aback. He shook his head.
“Then please leave,” I said, pointing to the door.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with bitterness. “Hannah, do you really not hate me at all?”
I thought for a moment. “I used to hate you. I hated you so much I wanted revenge. But I don’t hate you anymore. I realized hating someone is exhausting. You’re not worth it.”
“Are you… are you happy now?” he asked.
“Very happy.” I smiled. “Happier than I ever was with you.”
That sentence was like a dagger to his heart. He gave a bitter laugh, turned, and left the coffee shop. Watching his retreating back, I suddenly realized that the man I once loved so desperately was now just a stranger to me.
Time is a wonderful thing. It heals all wounds. Now, my days are full and peaceful. I wake up, practice yoga for an hour, then make myself a leisurely breakfast. At 9:00 AM, I open the coffee shop. For lunch, I’ll make something simple, like pasta or a sandwich.
In the afternoon, if it’s not busy, I’ll sit by the window and read. I’ve recently gotten into psychology, and it’s fascinating. In the evenings, I’ll meet friends for dinner or watch a movie at home. On weekends, I go hiking in the nearby state parks or visit the Art Institute.
Life is quiet, but it’s beautiful. Most importantly, I’ve found myself again. I don’t need to depend on anyone. I can live my life independently and face the world on my own terms.
Six months ago, Ben asked me out again.
“Hannah, I’ve waited two years for you,” he said. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and I’m not rushing you, but I want you to know that I’m still here, waiting.”
In that moment, I felt that maybe I could give him a chance.
“Ben,” I said. “I’m willing to try.”
He was ecstatic and hugged me tightly. “Really?”
“Really,” I smiled. “But I have to be honest. I’m not sure if I love you yet. I’m just willing to give us a chance.”
“That’s enough. That’s more than enough,” he said. “I’ll show you with my actions that I’m worthy of your love.”
We’ve been together for three months now. He’s wonderful to me—gentle, considerate, and supportive. He respects my opinions, supports my career, and never pressures me into doing anything I don’t want to do.
Being with him feels comfortable and liberating. Maybe this is what real love is supposed to feel like. Not a whirlwind of passion, but a steady stream. Not possession, but respect. Not confinement, but freedom.
I don’t know what our future holds, but I’m willing to try. Because I believe that as long as I love myself enough, am independent enough, and strong enough, I won’t be hurt again.
A few days ago, I got a message from an old acquaintance who knew Mark. He said Mark and Claire had broken up. She left him when she found out he was broke. He’s now alone in Toronto, struggling to make ends meet. He asked if I could lend him some money to get through this tough time.
I looked at the message and smiled. I replied, I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Then, I blocked the number.
Not because I’m heartless, but because I know his problems are of his own making. When he betrayed me, lied to me, and hurt me, did he ever consider my feelings? Now that he’s down on his luck, he remembers me? Sorry, I’m not a recycling bin. I’m not here for anyone’s emotional baggage. I just want to love myself and live my life.
Last week, I went to a college reunion. Everyone was catching up. Some got promotions, some had their second child, some got divorced.
When it was my turn, I said, “I’m divorced, I own a coffee shop, I have a new boyfriend, and I’m very happy.”
Everyone was surprised and congratulated me. A classmate asked, “Hannah, you don’t regret getting divorced? After all, you were married for five years.”
I shook my head. “No regrets. If I hadn’t gotten divorced, I might have spent my whole life living a lie. The divorce was painful, but it allowed me to find myself again.”
“You’re so brave,” another classmate said. “A lot of women in your situation would have just put up with it, for the sake of the family.”
“I didn’t have children then. So the choice was easier,” I said. “And I believe an unhappy family is more damaging to a child anyway.” Everyone nodded in agreement.
That night, I had a bit to drink. When I got home, I stood on my balcony, looking at the city lights. I thought about myself three years ago, the woman who tearfully saw her husband off at the airport. Back then, I thought my world was ending. But here I am now, living better than ever before. I proved that a woman doesn’t need anyone to live a wonderful life.
Today, a special customer came into the coffee shop. She was a young girl, probably in her early 20s. She ordered a latte and sat in a corner, quietly crying.
I walked over and gently asked, “Do you need a tissue?”
She looked up, her eyes red. “Thank you.”
I handed her a tissue and sat down across from her. “If you don’t mind, would you like to talk about it?”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. It turned out she had just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her. She didn’t know what to do—forgive him or break up.
“He said it was a one-time mistake. That he still loves me,” the girl said. “But I feel so hurt, so confused.”
Looking at her, I remembered myself three years ago.
“Listen to me,” I said earnestly. “There’s no such thing as ‘just once’ when it comes to cheating. It’s either zero times or countless times. If you forgive him this time, he’ll do it again. And someone who truly loves you would never hurt you like this.”
“But we’ve been together for three years. I don’t want to throw it all away,” the girl cried.
“Three years is a long time,” I said. “But if that relationship is causing you pain, it’s not worth holding on to. You have to learn to love yourself, to respect yourself. Don’t waste your youth on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
The girl looked at me, tears glistening in her eyes. “You’re right, I know what I have to do.”
I smiled. “Good for you. You’ll meet someone better.”
Watching her walk away, I suddenly felt that my experience could help others. Perhaps that’s the meaning of pain. It makes us grow, and it enables us to help others grow, too.
Three months later, one evening, I was closing out the register at the coffee shop when my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered, and a woman’s voice said, “Am I speaking with Ms. Hannah Miller?”
“Yes. This is she.”
“This is Officer Chen from the Toronto Police Service,” she said. “We need to inform you of a situation regarding your ex-husband, Mr. Mark Evans.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Evans has been arrested for investment fraud and embezzlement,” the officer said. “According to our investigation, he has been running a Ponzi scheme for several years, with the total amount involved exceeding 20 million Canadian dollars.”
I was stunned.
“Furthermore,” the officer continued, “before his arrest, he left a letter to be delivered to you. In the letter, he states that a portion of the money he used to purchase the property in Canada came from these illegal funds. The Crown is now seizing these assets, which may involve you.”
My hand holding the phone started to tremble.
“Also,” the officer paused, “Mr. Evans stated that he never loved you, that he married you solely for…”
The voice on the other end kept talking, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. I looked at my phone screen and saw another call coming in. The caller ID said Ben. I hesitated for a second, told the officer I understood, and hung up. But just as I was about to answer Ben’s call, the door to the coffee shop burst open.
A strange man rushed in and stared at me. “Hannah Miller? I’m one of Mark Evans’s creditors. You have to pay back his debt.”
I looked at the strange man before me, forcing myself to remain calm. The few remaining customers in the shop were startled by the sudden intrusion.
“Sir, please calm down,” I said, my voice as steady as I could make it. “Mark and I are divorced. His debts are not my responsibility.”
“Not your responsibility?” the man scoffed. “You were his wife. Don’t you know about marital debt? Mark owes me five million dollars. You have to pay it back.”
“I need to see a promissory note,” I said, “and proof that this debt was incurred during our marriage, and was used for our shared living expenses. Otherwise, I have no obligation to repay this debt.”
The man was taken aback, clearly not expecting this response. Just then, Ben rushed in. He must have been worried when I didn’t answer his call.
“Hannah, are you okay?” he said, stepping in front of me to shield me from the man. “Sir, whatever the issue is, we can discuss it calmly.”
“Who are you?” the man asked warily.
“I’m Hannah’s boyfriend,” Ben said. “Regarding the debt you mentioned, we can resolve it through legal channels. If you continue to cause a scene, I will call the police.”
The man looked at us, then at the other customers in the shop. Finally, he snorted. “Fine, we’ll see you in court.” He turned and left.
Ben closed the door and wrapped his arms around me. “You must have been terrified.”
I leaned into his embrace, my heart pounding. I had put on a brave face, but I was actually scared. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered.
“Silly girl. I told you I would protect you,” he said, gently patting my back. “What was that about a debt?”
I told him about the phone call from the police. After listening, Ben’s brows furrowed. “That bastard, Mark. What else has he done?”
“I had no idea,” I sighed. “I thought after the divorce, I would be done with him. I never expected all this.”
“Don’t worry,” Ben said. “I’ll go with you to see your lawyer tomorrow. You’re divorced, and your assets have been legally divided. His criminal activities and debts in Canada have nothing to do with you.”
I nodded, but a sense of unease still lingered. That night, I couldn’t sleep. The police officer’s words echoed in my mind.
Mr. Evans stated that he never loved you. That he married you solely for…
For what? To steal my money? Or was there another motive? I suddenly realized that from the very beginning, I might have been just a pawn in his elaborate game.
The next day, Ben accompanied me to see Ms. Davis. After hearing the whole story, she let out a sigh of relief.
“Ms. Miller, you don’t need to worry too much. First, you and Mr. Evans are divorced, and your assets have been legally divided,” Ms. Davis explained. “Second, according to marital law, any debt incurred by one spouse in their own name that is not for the family’s daily needs is not considered joint marital debt, unless the creditor can prove that the debt was used for shared living, shared business, or was based on the mutual consent of both spouses.”
“What about the $5 million that man mentioned?” I asked.
“He needs to provide evidence that the debt was incurred during your marriage and was used for your shared life,” Ms. Davis said. “From his reaction, he probably can’t produce such evidence.”
“And what about what the police said—that some of the money Mark used to buy the condo in Canada was from his illegal activities?”
“That property was already divided in the divorce settlement, with half awarded to you, correct?” Ms. Davis said, reviewing the previous judgment. “If the police want to seize it, they need to prove that you were aware of and participated in the illegal activities. Otherwise, as a good faith third party, your share of the property is protected by law.”
Hearing this, I finally felt a sense of relief.
“However,” Ms. Davis added, “you should still be prepared. Mr. Evans’s case is quite serious, and there may be other creditors who will come looking for you. I suggest you keep all your documents, including the divorce decree and property settlement agreement. If anyone harasses you, call the police immediately.”
I nodded. “I understand. Thank you, Ms. Davis.”
Walking out of the law firm, Ben held my hand. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”
I looked at him, a wave of warmth washing over me. In the following weeks, more people came to my door, claiming to be Mark’s creditors. Some had promissory notes, others had bank transfer records. All of them said Mark owed them money and demanded that I pay.
Following Ms. Davis’s advice, I asked each of them to provide proof that the debt was incurred during our marriage and was used for our shared life. Not a single one of them could. Most of the loans were made after our divorce, and some of the promissory notes were obvious forgeries.
I documented everything and handed it over to Ms. Davis to handle. But the trouble still took a toll on my life. The coffee shop’s business suffered because people kept coming to cause a scene, and customers were scared away. My mood plummeted, and I was constantly on edge, worrying about what new trouble would come next.
Ben saw my distress and was heartbroken. “Hannah, why don’t we move the shop to a new location,” he suggested. “Or maybe close it for a while, take a break, and reopen after this blows over.”
I shook my head. “No. I can’t let Mark’s mess ruin my life. I worked so hard to get where I am. I can’t give up.”
“No buts,” I said firmly. “He’s hurt me once. I won’t let him destroy what I have now.”
Ben looked at me, his eyes full of admiration. “Okay, I support you. But you have to promise me that if you run into any trouble you can’t handle, you’ll tell me.”
“I promise.”
A month later, there was finally a breakthrough. News came from the Canadian police. Mark’s case was clear. He was indeed guilty of large-scale investment fraud and embezzlement and would face severe criminal penalties.
The police also confirmed that I was unaware of his illegal activities and was, in fact, one of his victims. Therefore, the assets awarded to me in the divorce settlement would not be seized.
Hearing this news, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Ms. Davis also resolved the issues with the creditors. Through legal proceedings, all the debts were confirmed as Mark’s personal debts and had nothing to do with me.
Gradually, the troublemakers stopped coming, and business at the coffee shop returned to normal. My life was finally getting back on track. But I knew this experience had taught me a profound lesson. I thought a divorce would be a clean break, but a person’s past always finds ways to affect their present. I needed to be more careful, more vigilant in my life.
That night, the Toronto police called me again.
“Ms. Miller, Mr. Evans would like to say something to you. Are you willing to listen?”
I hesitated for a moment. “Okay.”
Mark’s voice came on the line, weak and frail. “Hannah.”
“Go on. I’m listening,” I said calmly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I wronged you. I did so many terrible things.”
I remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
“The truth is, I married you with an ulterior motive from the start,” Mark’s voice was filled with regret. “I saw how naive and kind you were. And I saw your steady income. I wanted to use you. To take your money for my investments. For my business.”
My heart felt like it was being pricked by a needle. I had suspected it, but hearing him admit it still hurt.
“I thought I could succeed,” he said. “I thought I could make a lot of money, and then give you a better life. But I was wrong. I was too greedy. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in illegal fundraising. I shouldn’t have cheated so many people.”
“And what about Claire?” I asked.
“Claire. She was a victim too,” Mark said with a bitter laugh. “She thought I was rich, she was with me for the money. When she found out I was a fraud, she left.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Hannah, I know saying sorry is useless now,” Mark said. “I just wanted to tell you that, during our five years together, even though I started with a motive… Later on, I really did love you. But I was too greedy, too foolish, and I destroyed everything.”
I opened my eyes and said calmly, “Mark, you know what I hate the most? It’s not that you stole my money. It’s that you played with my feelings. For five years, I treated you as the most important person in my life. I trusted you, depended on you, loved you. And what about you? You treated me like a tool, a pawn to be used.”
“I know.” His voice was filled with pain.
“But I also have to thank you,” I said. “Thank you for showing me your true colors, for letting me cut my losses in time. If it weren’t for you, I might have spent my whole life as that naive, easily deceived girl.”
“Hannah…”
“This is the last time we will speak,” I cut him off. “From now on, we go our separate ways. I hope you reflect on your actions in prison and become a better person.”